


Rivers in Egypt

by Verasteine



Category: EastEnders
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-27
Updated: 2010-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-13 12:56:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verasteine/pseuds/Verasteine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It might work between these four walls, but that doesn't mean you don't take the emotional baggage from the outside world with you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rivers in Egypt

**Author's Note:**

> **Thanks to** : [](http://smirnoffmule.livejournal.com/profile)[**smirnoffmule**](http://smirnoffmule.livejournal.com/), for the beta, and to [](http://pinkfairy727.livejournal.com/profile)[**pinkfairy727**](http://pinkfairy727.livejournal.com/) for making me revisit this after I'd nearly forgotten its existence. I wrote this way back when in October, and so it's set in that time as well. Therefore it's before the wedding, before Christmas even, but I hope y'all enjoy it anyway.

"Gotcha!" Christian says triumphantly, pinning him to the bed, warm and heavy on top of him.

Syed strains against the grip but Christian isn't letting go, and looks down at him leisurely. Syed gives him a smile, the brilliant smile that never fails to work on people, and feels Christian's grip lessen just a little.

"You're a schemer," Christian accuses, but he laughs.

Syed laughs with him and tries again to wriggle out of Christian's grasp, to no avail.

"What is it?" Christian teases. "We've got all night, haven't we?"

He wants to say that yes, they do, but it's suddenly hard to breathe. Christian above him, strong and heavy against his body, and in that moment it's like they're not even wearing clothes. He bucks against Christian, hard, not dislodging him because Christian has the superior body weight, but Christian senses his distress and finally lets up.

"Sy? What is it?" His voice goes from laughing to concerned, that drop in range to soft and deep that Syed never fails to respond to, in mind and body.

He sits up slowly, inhales and exhales, tries to put a name to his own reaction because it wasn't fear.

"Hey, I didn't mean it like that." Christian's hand is against his cheek, making him look Christian in the eye. His gaze is still warm and concerned. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Yeah." He wants to get back on track, shake off whatever the strange sensation is. Instead out of his mouth comes, "I just don't want to get too close."

As soon as he says the words, he realises the insanity of them. Christian stares at him, face reflecting the confusion undoubtedly mirrored in his own. "Syed," Christian says, disbelief audible alongside the hurt.

He makes a throwaway gesture. "I didn't mean that. I'm here, aren't I? We've done this before." He feels heat rise to his cheeks as he holds Christian's gaze.

"If you don't want me," Christian replies, voice hardening, "just say so. It's easier for the both of us if this was over."

The stab in his chest is instantaneous. "No! I want you, I..." The words force themselves up in his mind, and he closes his mouth to keep from speaking them. Christian is staring at him, eyes shining and his face set in a mask that Syed knows too well.

It was easier when this was just sex, so much easier to push it away, to tell himself that it would be over once he was married and had Amira. It's not that any more, and Christian's shuttered eyes are breaking his heart. "Just go, Syed," Christian says.

His mouth is full of words he can't say, and his hands want to reach out and touch, and he can't. He mustn't. He shouldn't. And yet, trembling, he finds himself holding out his hand, laying his palm on Christian's shoulder.

Christian's head comes up; he's staring at him in bewilderment and something that Syed prays is hope, and he finds his hand sliding up, over Christian's t-shirt and onto his warm skin, up into his hair. He cups his fingers behind Christian's head and pulls him in, tilting his head to kiss him. And without thinking any further, he lets himself wander away, to kiss Christian's cheek, his jaw, his neck, behind his ear. "I'm sorry," he whispers in Christian's hair, and Christian's arms come up to embrace him; he lets himself be held, close enough to feel Christian's pounding heart.

"Sy. Sy, what's wrong with you? What?" Christian pulls back to hold him at arm's length. "You said you wanted this. You came to me."

"I know." He can't look away from Christian's gaze. "I know, I do, I-- I want you. I do."

"Well, what's all this, then?"

"I--" It's the things he doesn't even confess to himself in the dark, when he's jerking off under the sheets, his mind on men and never women. It's how he wants his fantasies to be about Amira, or even Angelina Jolie or something, but instead they're about Zafar Younis and lately, always about Christian. It's touching and knowing he shouldn't; it's his imam's voice in his head; it's the thought of his mother's face if she ever were to find out.

" _Syed_."

He forces himself to keep looking at Christian, even as he knows what'll happen next. He lets go of his internal censors and talks. "I shouldn't want this. I know it. I want you, and I shouldn't, and I can't just turn that off, Christian. I can't. Sometimes..." He runs out of words to describe what it is, that sensation of wrong and right, of how it feels, of what it does to him, every day, every second he's with Christian, whom he knows he-- Don't go there.

"Sy..." Christian reaches out and smoothes Syed's hair back from his face, and he can't even find the way to tell him he likes that.

"It's _haram_ ," he says instead, and Christian pulls his hand away. "That's what I've been taught. That's my faith. You can't ask me to give that up."

"I'm not asking you to give anything up!" Christian bursts out. "I'm bending over backwards for you, Sy. Can't you see that you've got me? Completely? But when you're not busy planning your _wedding_ , you're telling me you can't touch me because-- Because of what? You can stand it?"

"No!" He shakes his head. "Christian. Please."

"You never stop," Christian says bitterly, "trampling all. over. my heart. You can't keep doing this to me."

"I'm not. I don't." He runs his hands through his hair in an effort to make sense of things, to clear his head. "You... You're..." He takes a deep breath but no matter how much he's tried to turn off that censor, the words seem to lodge in his throat.

Christian gets up, turning away, shoulders hunched. Syed follows him, pacing the short distance between the bed and the kitchen for a few seconds before looking back to Christian. Christian takes a breath, opens his mouth, and Syed knows what he's going to say, and it prompts him to speak.

"I think you're hot." His voice cracks and it comes out about as unsexy as humanly possible, and he didn't have the courage to say it all that loudly to begin with.

Christian stares at him again, speechless, frozen in the middle of the room. "What?"

Syed swallows. "I--" His voice shakes, his whole body is shaking, and he needs to clear his throat before he can start again. "I think you're hot."

Christian narrows his eyes. "What does that mean?"

"I want you. It's not that I don't, it's just..." He wraps his arms around himself to try and stop the shivering; it's like he's in shock and he can't understand why.

"What, it's just because I'm a bloke?" Christian's voice drips with sarcasm. "I bet you don't get this way with Amira."

"I've not been with Amira!"

Christian takes a deep breath, but doesn't speak. Finally he says, "What are you trying to tell me?"

"This isn't easy for me," Syed starts, but Christian interrupts.

"I know that."

"Well, shut up for a moment," Syed says with a flash of irritation, making Christian close his mouth abruptly. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. You might be used to-- to--" he forces the words, feeling his body protest physically against this emotional step "--to being g-gay, to this being all-- all-- normal, but it's not for me, all right?" He wavers threateningly, but forces himself to keep standing.

"Sy," Christian says, and steps closer.

He holds up a hand. "You're full on. Always. Fuck, Christian, sometimes I need room to breathe."

"Just tell me," Christian pleads. "When it's too much, whatever it is that's too much. I can't read your mind, Sy." Ignoring Syed's earlier gesture, he takes another step forward. "God, you're shaking."

He raises a hand, and Syed jumps back, curling in on himself, arms wrapped around his waist. "Don't touch me!"

Christian freezes, looking shocked. "Okay, okay. Easy." He stands hesitantly in front of Syed, not coming closer but not moving away.

Syed tries to relax, but it's a struggle and the shivers don't really abate. "I'm not a coward. I have more to lose than you. My family--"

"That's not all this is about, is it?" Christian asks. When Syed looks at him, it's that full-on gaze again, the intensity feeling like it's burning straight through him. "Why can't I touch you, Sy? It was never a problem before."

He feels stupid and silly and he really wants to leave, but he's got this bad feeling that leaving now will mean he can't come back. "Christian..." he tries.

"There's some part of you that hates what we do, isn't there?" Christian says, and instead of the contempt he's been expecting, Christian just sounds sad. "Some part that thinks this is all a dirty affair, some part that hates that you want to touch me. Is that it?"

Syed turns away from the truth. He nods, not speaking.

"I can't fix that for you, Syed."

"I want this!" He looks back at Christian, ashamed, afraid, exhausted. "I want _you_. It's just..."

"Not easy, I know." Christian makes a throwaway gesture. "You either want to be here or you don't. It's up to you."

Christian's words push him forward, make him catch Christian's hand. "I can't help how I've been raised. I need time."

Christian nods slowly. "Are you gonna go home?"

"What? No." He looks at their fingers, laced together. "No. Just, let's take it slow, yes?"

Christian swallows, gives him a short smile. "Yeah. Sure. Jesus, Sy, you're still shaking." His voice softens. "Come here."

He's folded into Christian's arms, threatening to drown until Christian's fingers card through his hair, reminding him how right it is. "I'm trying," he says in a moment of sheer honesty, as Christian pulls back.

"I know you are." Christian's voice is low, his arm still around Syed's shoulders.

Syed leans in to kiss him, ignoring that part of his mind that's screaming, that wants to censor everything he does, because this is becoming every part of him.

When they break for air, Christian is looking at him, searching his face for signs of disgust, no doubt.

"I'm here," Syed says.

"For now," Christian replies.

Syed kisses him again to shut him up.

\--  
 _finis._


End file.
